


Make Me Your Mess Again

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: D/s, Gag, Kink, M/M, NSFW, Phone Sex, it's really not safe for work ok, where to begin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too many miles between them, too many days apart. Eggsy becomes restless, and Harry has learned how to help him cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me Your Mess Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissMadWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMadWorld/gifts).



> I can't really lie. This was a shameless excuse to write Hartwin porn centered around Eggsy's oral fixation, praise kink and probably a dash of humiliation kink. I also am constitutionally incapable of writing them without laskdjfadskfj feelings. Please enjoy!

“Harry, can I?”

“Try again, Eggsy.”

A slow breath, biting his tongue so he doesn’t cuss. “May I please, Sir?”

“Go ahead, put it on. I’ll still be here.”

Eggsy can’t say no to Harry’s voice on the other end of the phone, gentle like velvet but hard like steel. He sits up and reaches toward the bedside table. He hasn’t even put it back in the drawer. This has been a more difficult week than he expected. He’s loathe to set the phone down, but he does so he can use both hands on the buckle. The cock-shaped gag slides onto his tongue, fills his mouth. It’s not Harry, but he knows it’s his proxy, and that’s good enough for now. He swallows a few times, pressing until the base is against his lips, then fastens it into place. There’s a crease in the leather strap at the setting, making it easy to get it on. He settles back into the pillows, surrounding him in the scent of Harry’s cologne, props his legs apart with his knees up.

He can’t speak, but Harry knows when the rustling stops that Eggsy is just how he wants him. The linens are turned down so his naked skin touches the ridiculously high thread count sheets. He breathes through his nose, pressing the phone to his ear. He waits, but not for long.

“Good boy.”

He can’t help the little whine around the gag. The first couple of days, he could have done this without feeling or sounding so needy, but he struggles now. Harry is quiet on the other end of the line and for a moment, Eggsy wonders if he’s disappointed him with the obvious signs of his hunger. He holds still, grip just a little too tight on the phone, the plastic case protests ever so slightly. An involuntary swallow has his tongue pressed up against thick silicone, and he has to force himself to calm down. He punches the little bubble on his screen with his thumb to put Harry on speaker phone before he breaks his phone.

Harry is not at all without sympathy, his exhale something of an apologetic sigh. “My poor darling, I’ve missed you so. The feeling must be mutual; I can feel it all the way over here. You needed this more than I thought.”

The most Eggsy can manage is a slightly choked, “Mmhmm,” and it will have to do in place of the “yes, Sir” that would have escaped his lips.

“I’ll be home tomorrow, and I trust you’ll show me an appropriate welcome. I’ve no intention of letting you off with anything less. But for now…”

_Oh, fuck, Harry. Yes,_ please _._

“Close your eyes, boy. Stroke yourself for me.”

Eggsy’s hand is on his cock by the time Harry says the word ‘stroke’, and the jolt of sensation hits him harder than he expects. With his eyes closed and Harry’s musk in the pillows, he manages to conjure his lover beside him, playing one of their games where the man is _so close_ but doesn’t touch him. He pumps his cock desperately, no thought in his head to save it, to make it last, he just wants…he _needs_ —

“ _Eggsy_.” Harry’s voice comes across like a weight on his wrist, and the Eggsy freezes in spite of himself. His nostrils flare, taking in air too fast, too hard. Dead giveaway. “If you come before I allow you, the first thing I’ll do is have you over my knee, and you’ll burn for days.” Not entirely a deterrent. “And I won’t let you come at all until I can’t see my handprints anymore.” Eggsy’s fingers clench then open, and he drops his hand to the sheets immediately before it’s too late. White drops have gathered at the head of his cock, but he hasn’t spilled. _Fuck_. He groans, and it’s in some way an apology.

“That’s it, Eggsy.” The hint of gentleness is back, but it’s as if the darker part of Harry lies in wait, lest his boy misbehave again. “Keep your hands where they are right now. Concentrate on your pretty toy. It’s good, isn’t it? Work it with that clever tongue of yours. Yes, just like that.” A sense of purpose settles over Eggsy, calming him as much as it works him up. He’s focused on Harry’s voice and the thickness in his mouth. His suckling pulls on it are obscenely audible through the receiver, and Harry makes a heavy sound Eggsy knows is arousal. He’s doing well, being good.

“I don’t know if I can trust you with your own cock yet, boy,” Harry says contemplatively, and his breath shakes when Eggsy keens, then sucks harder, as if that will convince Harry he’s worthy of the chance. “No, not quite. But if you must make use of your hand, wet your fingertips. Mm, yes, you’re already dripping for me, aren’t you, sweet boy? Can’t help yourself, you never can.”

Eggsy doesn’t stand a chance; he’s unclenching his fingers from deep blue sheets, gathering up precum, rolling his thumb over his fingertips, sticky and warm. He’s sure he knows what his terribly wonderful gentleman will ask of him, but he waits for the direction. It’s torture, but he waits. Harry waits. The quiet lingers between hundreds of miles; Eggsy’s throat tightens in anticipation, body taut like a bowstring Harry draws tighter by doing nothing at all.

“Put your fingers where I’m going to fuck you, Eggsy.”

His head goes back, and he clumsily opens his thighs wider, skimming quickly past his balls and pressing to the tightest part of him, that which belongs to Harry alone. It’s not the same, _sweet fuck_ , it’s not. But with his lover’s voice close to his ear, it will have to hold him over for now. He groans as he pushes in, two fingers to the first knuckle. But that isn’t the only place he wants to be fucked. He presses against the gag with his free hand, pushing it and straining forward until he feels the tip brush the back of his throat. Tears jump to the corners of his eyes as he chokes just a little bit, the noise unmistakable.

“Hungry boy.” Harry’s voice is a predatory growl. “Greedy, aren’t you? Well, then you can take it. Get it to the back of your throat again for me.”

Eggsy’s body bucks forward and back, onto his fingers, up to meet the press of his gag. He grows desperate again, spurred on by Harry’s quickening breath. He’s still in control, far more control than his boy could ever hope to be over himself. A slightly trembling intake of air, a “good boy”, then an exhale that is practically a moan. Eggsy can imagine him hard in his pristine dress slacks, but not touching himself yet, too busy humming proudly into the phone pressed to his ear. In his mind’s eye, his lover is practically hovering over him, watching him fuck his own throat, open himself up with his own fingers. All for Harry. He’d break himself down to this needy mess on a gentleman’s sheets, whimper and choke but work his lips swollen for that man. He would come—

“ _Stop_ , Eggsy.”

“Nnnggghh!” is a loud protesting sound around his gag, and Eggsy thumps his head back into the pillow, breathing so hard through his nose that it burns. But Harry’s command is firm, so he lays there with his fingers still in his ass, chest heaving and a sheen of sweat on his skin. His next sound is a wordless plea; he can’t stay like this. He can’t.

“Deeper, boy. Work that pretty body of yours, stretch, touch that spot you like me to reach. I want to hear it when you do.”

Eggsy complies, curling his body, pushing his fingers further, feeling the burn as he stretches, and he presses until he finds the right angle. Harry knows, he _knows_ that sound, even when it’s pressed upon by a toy on the Eggsy’s tongue.

“Just like that. Over and over for me. Oh, _good_ boy.”

Eggsy sobs, can feel the wetness on his face, feeling his cheeks turn to fire with every word, with every stroke of his fingers. His eyes are half open, rolled back. He doesn’t dare bite the gag, no; not when it’s Harry’s proxy, and he’s taking it so well. God, he can’t wait until it’s his lover’s flesh, unrelenting, unrepentant against the back of his throat. Just the thought of it has his cock dripping again, white drops sliding down painfully tight skin.

“I’ll be inside you soon enough, Eggsy. It’ll be me deep, fucking you, taking your breath, making you mine again. I’ll fill you up nice and full, darling boy. You know you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Nnn—Mmmhmm!” _Yes. Yes. Yes, Sir. Please. Please. **Please!**_

Another length of agonizing, wordless anticipation stretches between them. Eggsy hangs on a single thread of discipline, otherwise coming undone at the seams, tears he doesn’t have the mind to be ashamed of still falling. He aches inside and out, suckling, moaning, choking. Harry’s breath is heavy near his ear, fabric moves, Eggsy immerses himself in the fantasy he’s being fucked, can practically feel the suiting rubbing against his ass, imagines fingertips bruising his hips.

“Come for me.”

Eggsy’s body jerks, white splatters across his stomach, sticky-warm, and he grinds his hips to greedily savor every last bit of his orgasm before he collapses back again, dizzy and breathless. Harry’s loud, appreciative moan is like a pleasing caress to Eggsy’s core, and he arches to try and offer his lover all the pleasure he can from this far away. Praises fall from Harry’s lips, becoming thinner and more stuttered, until he can’t anymore. That’s when he lets out a filthy groan, and Eggsy knows those trousers aren’t so clean anymore, and he wishes he could lick those sticky fingers clean now. The distance between them still hurts, but the ache is softened by the afterglow, Harry’s pleasure and pride like a blanket around him. The sheets are a mess, he smells like sex, and it’s a perfect accompaniment to the faint scent of his lover on the linens.

“Take it off, boy. Let me hear you.”

Eggsy’s hands fumble with the buckle, his head is heavy, but he pulls the gag from his lips, his jaw hurts now.

“Harry,” he wheezes, but the man can hear his smile over the line.

“Sleep fast, darling boy. You’ll see me tomorrow.”

“Love ya, Harry,” Eggsy murmurs as he turns his head closer to the phone. His lips brush against it like a goodnight kiss.

“I love you, Eggsy. Sweet dreams.”

“Of you, yeah. Always of you.”

He doesn’t remember the words Harry says in response, just knows it’s his gentleman’s voice that carries him off to sleep.


End file.
